Sheppard, in a voice of agony. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own.
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